


clutterbug

by Zwtfmate



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Drabbles, M/M, Multi, tumblr ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3584520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zwtfmate/pseuds/Zwtfmate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles/ficlets from prompts on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jehan/Bahorel hospital au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MEETING IN THE ER AU- JEHAN/BAHOREL

 

This was his third time this month in the emergency room. That’s gotta be a new record. Most of the nurses know Bahorel by name at this point, and he could maneuver the waiting room with his eyes closed.

Which is pretty accurate at the moment, ice pack balanced on his brow so he has to look for a vacant seat with his head tilted back.

He spots one, next to a dreamy-looking individual with the ugliest sweatshirt he has ever seen. He walks carefully over and sits, accidentally brushing his shoulder against the other person, who flinches. “Sorry.” he says.

"It’s ok." They say back, voice somehow both deep and lilting. "Just aggravated the burns a little."

"Burns?" Bahorel asks. The person nods and rolls up their sleeves, exposing nasty red patches across their forearms. Bahoral whistles. "Damn. How’d you get those?"

"I was holding a seance and it got a little…Out of hand." They say, smile a little sheepish, and Bahorel thinks it’s sort of cute.

"Who were you trying to contact?"

"Harry Houdini. I wanted to ask him about some of his tricks." They look put out. "But the Candles had a different idea."

"No shit?" Bahorel says, nodding a little. "That’s pretty cool. Houdini’s legit."

They smile, then gesture at Bahorel’s head. “How about you?”

"Oh. Uh, bar fight." Their eyes go wide.

"Is that a hobby of yours?"

Bahorel laughs, wincing only a little when the ice is jostled. “You could say that. I’m Bahorel, by the way.”

"Jehan." They reply.

"Nice to meet you Jehan. I’d shake your hand, but I think I broke one of my fingers on this hand and the other is holding this ice."

Jehan looks thoughtful for a moment, then gingerly reaches up, careful of the burns, and places a hand to hold the ice pack in place. Their other hand takes Bahorel’s good one and shakes it.

"Nice to meet you too." They say, smile bigger and a little shy, and Bahorel definitely thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.


	2. Javert/Enjolras- halfwords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ENJOLRAS/JAVERT FOR THE PROMPT "things you said too quietly"

They argue more than not.  
It’s not hard to believe, what with them being both vastly different and achingly similar. Enjolras is fury and passion, a whirlwind of anger and shouting and fists violently shaking. Javert is Ice incarnate, vicious and unyielding, every word sharp as a blade.  
It’s unhealthy and volatile, and secretly some of Javert’s favorite encounters. A foolish rich boy with some spine and too much mouth, spouting about justice and freedom as if he had enough experience with either in his short life; it keeps Javert sharp, keeps him at his best defense and his even better offense. Also, though he pretends otherwise, even to himself, it’s quite entertaining to have a sparring partner not with a sword but with clever quips and heated stares.  
It’s a relationship between two Alphas, constantly circling and snarling and daring the other forward first. Every encounter is a battle, and each battle a stalemate. Neither will step closer or back down, so they are left clashing and chipping at each other, hoping the other will break first.  
The point of breaking, however, was what neither expected.  
It’s in the street, late at night, Javert spotting Enjolras and quietly following him on age-old suspicions. Suspicions he would not have confirmed, for the boy whirls on him almost immediately, spitting something offensive about paranoid old men and another battle rages. It’s heated, as always, only now because of the proximity of standing nearly chest-to-chest so that their words would not carry farther than their own ears, it feels… oddly intimate. Javert can make out all the lines on Enjolras’ face, far too many for a man so young, and if so inclined he could raise his hand and catch a strand of gold that has fallen in front of Enjolras’ eyes. He is beautiful, Javert thinks, suddenly and with no welcome, and it hits him right in the gut. The pressure intensifies when Enjolras suddenly stops mid-rant and frowns.  
"What did you say?"  
Javert curses his idle tongue, realizing the thought had formed halfway in his mouth. He then is re-acquainted with the knowledge of their proximity and hastily steps back. “Nothing,” He says, gruffly and too harsh. “It is of no import.”Enjolras looks as though he’s going to argue (a look he is well-known for) and Javert adds before the boy has a chance. “Be on your way.”  
Enjolras looks taken aback for a moment, brow furrowing at the sudden change. “But-“  
"Do you want me to arrest you for disobeying an officer?" Javert practically snarls. "Be on your way, boy!"  
Enjolras continues to stand there, looking at Javert with a level of confusion that slowly shifts into something Javert cannot recognize, the usual heat in the boy’s eyes going from a raging fire to a smolder, as if he is considering burning Javert from the inside out. Then, as quick as lightning, he is gone, heading down the street and into the dark, leaving Javert alone to cool his mind.


	3. Javert/Enjolras- Nine Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JAVERT/ENJOLRAS- We're-next-door-neighbors-and-your-cat-keeps-ending-up-in-my-flat AU

It’s 3 am when he wakes up to a loud pounding at his door.

Enjolras blinks, confused and groggy. Confused soon turned irritated as he vaguely registered that no, he was not dreaming, and no, the pounding is not going away by ignoring it. With a groan and a curse he drags himself out of his bed and gropes clumsily to the front room.

He opens the door and finds his neighbor on the other side. The asshole cop guy. What was his name? Jacobs? Jaquin???

Javert, his mind supplies, and he grunts thanks to himself. Javert looks to be in a similar state of being, gray hair sticking up in all directions, eyes blinking rapidly and mouth turned down in a scowl. He’s swaying slightly on his feet (covered in what appear to be Elmo slippers) and held awkwardly in his arms-

“That’s my cat.” Enjolras says brilliantly. As if knowing she was being spoken about, Belle looks at Enjolras with the usual amount of boredom and derision, like she’s being inconvenienced by simply being in Enjolras’ presence.

Javert’s scowl, if possible, deepens. His voice is gravelly with sleep when he talks. “This is the third night this week I’ve woken up to this… thing laying on my pillow. I don’t know how it gets there, and I don’t know why, but if you don’t learn to control your fucking pet I’m calling Animal Control.”

He shoves Belle at Enjolras, and Enjolras grabs her just in time. Without the cat in the way Enjolras notices that Javert isn’t wearing a shirt, and with sleep-addled reflexes he finds himself zoning out on the expanse of skin stretching over the older man’s chest and the light dust of hair down his stomach. He comes back to himself with a start one feels when suddenly fully waking up, and hopes the dark of the hallway hides the bright blush that’s bloomed on his face.

“Okay, well, I’ll try to keep an eye on her.” He mumbles, too embarrassed to think up a scathing comeback that would have been on the tip of his tongue in the reasonable hours of the day. He forces himself to look at Javert’s face, to see if he noticed Enjolras staring, but Enjolras is surprised to find Javert isn’t looking at him. Well, no, that’s not true; Javert IS looking at him, but his eyes are downcast and focused on Enjolras’ legs. The stare looks a little glazed, almost distracted. Enjolras is suddenly acutely aware that he’s clad in nothing but a pair of gray briefs and his Bikini Kill tee-shirt. Enjolras shifts and clears his throat, and Javert blinks as if startled.

“Is there anything else, Officer?” Enjolras drawls, feeling a spark of smug triumph when Javert looks back at him like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Javert glares at him, but Enjolras will swear that there was red in his cheeks.

“Just keep the cat away from me.” Javert growls and turns promptly away, storming back to his door and entering his own apartment quickly. Enjolras watches, a little confused on what exactly happened but feeling weirdly good about it. After a moment he hears an indignant meow and glances down.

Belle is giving him the cat equivalent of a glower. Enjolras glowers back. “Don’t look at me like that,” He says, “this is all your fault to begin with.”

She meows again, as if dismissing his accusation. She looks at Javert’s door almost longingly, her tail swishing from side to side. Enjolras rolls his eyes and holds her tighter. 

“Stop that. You’re gonna get us in trouble. And if I can’t sleep with the neighbor, neither can you.” He has no idea where the last sentence came from or why he even said it. But in the quiet of the hall with noone else around except his cat who doesn’t seem to care either way he shrugs it away as tired talk and steps back into his flat, closing the door softly.


	4. Courfeyrac/Grantaire-intimacy's a must

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> COURFEYRAC/GRANTAIRE FOR THE PROMPT- "Things you said when you thought I was asleep"

It’s close to 3 in the morning. It has to be. They didn’t stumble into Courfeyrac’s apartment till quarter to 2, and they were so busy wrapped up in each other that the farthest thing from their minds was looking at the time. Now Courf is asleep, face half-buried in the pillow and bare back still shiny from sweat and slick and it’s disgusting, really, but Grantaire wishes he had a camera to capture the painting-in-waiting before him. He’s not tired, never is anymore, so he leans on his elbow and watches his friend’s chest rise and fall peacefully, reaches over to brush dark curling strands from Courfeyrac’s face so he can try to make out the light flush of color that permanently stains Courf’s cheeks no matter what. Grantaire can’t at the moment, the room too dark for that, but it’s ok; he likes just looking at the other boy’s face either way.

“Fuck.” Grantaire whispers, resting his face on the edge of the pillow. “You’re so fucking pretty, Renee…” He never calls Courfeyrac by his FIRST NAME, even during sex. He saves it for the moments the boy won’t hear the raw emotion Grantiare can’t hide in such intimate words. He shifts again so their foreheads are nearly touching, and barely breathes out, “I wish we could fall in love, like regular people. I wish there was more to what we do together.” 

It’s something he’s thought about for a while, since they started sleeping together. It was a lovely distraction and a fun experience. But it was made clear when it started how things were, and still are: Courfeyrac Loves, but does not Fall in Love. Grantaire likes the Idea but never the actual thing. In the end it was decided that they didn’t need anything else from each other. It was a complete lie, Grantaire knew it even as he agreed, but like most things, he went through with it anyways. 

Courfeyrac shifts and Grantaire worries that he’s disturbed him, but Courf only sniffs slightly and settles back down. Grantaire sighs, smiling sadly one last time at the vision before him, and rolls to the end of the bed to find his clothes. He finds his underwear and one of Courf’s jackets and quickly pulls them on, then stands and heads towards the kitchen to make himself a pot of coffee.

He doesn’t turn to see Courfeyrac’s wide open eyes stare at him as he goes.


	5. Enjolras/Javert-Wet dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ENJOLRAS/JAVERT FOR THE PROMPT- "Things you said that I wasn't meant to hear"

“It was awful, Combeferre. Just fucking-” Enjolras made a face he knew his friend couldn’t obviously see over the phone. “-awful. I feel dirty just talking to you about it.”

“Then why are you talking to me about it?”

“Because I had to tell someone! It’s been gnawing at me for a week!”

“You’re reading too much into it. Most studies on dreams and why we have them have come up in-conclusive, but it’s theorized that the more outlandish ones could be caused by unrelated stress, addling our minds and producing an outcropping of weird images and scenarios.”

“Are you implying that I had a sex-dream about the cop that’s always arresting us because I’m nervous about the final exam in my History class?” Enjolras asked incredulously. Even saying it casually gave him the willies. It had been just so… vivid, and realistic. Even a few days later, he could still picture it perfectly in his mind; the hard metal of the car hood, the unnervingly accurate amount of strength in the officer’s arms pinning him down, the deep gruff tones in his voice… It had Enjolras waking up fairly aroused and completely freaked-out.

Combeferre’s voice brought Enjolras back from zoning out, and Enjolras was glad Ferre couldn’t see the mortified blush on his face. “Maybe? Like I said, noone knows why we dream the stuff we do. It’s one of life’s great mysteries.”

Enjolras hummed noncommittally. He stopped walking, placing his phone between his shoulder and ear to grab the keys to his flat. “So what do you suggest I do, Doc?”

“I’m not that kinda Doctor, Enj.”

“You’re the one giving out information.”

“I don’t know. Study more, maybe. Find a stress-reliever. Have you talked to Courfeyrac about it?”

Enjolras snorted, still in search through his bag. “You know what he would suggest I do.”

Combeferre’s smile could be felt on the other line. “I think it’s safe to say there would be some sort of proposition suggested.”

“yeah, and can you imagine how that would go?” Enjolras said, scoffing, “ ‘Hey Officer Javert, I know we sort of hate each others’ guts because you are a dogmatic brainless pawn to a corrupt government and I’m what you always call a bloodthirsty anarchist, but listen, I had a really hot dream about us fucking on your cop car and I think it’d be a really great idea if we reenacted it sooner than later. Take me, Officer, take me now.’”

There was the sound of a throat clearing behind Enjolras and his head snapped up. oh, shit.

“Oh, shit.”

“What?” Combeferre asked, “What’s wrong?”

Enjolras didn’t answer. Instead he very very slowly turned around. Dread pooled in his stomach and his face flushed bright and Officer Javert looked at him with one raised brow. Oh, shit.

They stared at each other for a long, long, long moment, and Enjolras barely registered the sound of Combeferre frantically asking him what was going on.

“ ‘Ferre,” He finally answered, eyes still locked with Javert’s, who was giving him an almost intimidating heated stare. “I think I’m gonna have to call you back.”


End file.
